tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27009906360717831732024-03-08T14:58:50.913+00:00Stick Figure StoriesStories, poems, and occasional ramblesUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-60248585589581223352023-06-27T08:25:00.000+01:002023-06-27T08:25:00.156+01:00Three Little Poems<p> </p><div class="is-root-container block-editor-block-list__layout edit-post-visual-editor__post-title-wrapper is-layout-constrained has-global-padding" contenteditable="false"><h1 aria-label="Add title" aria-multiline="true" class="wp-block wp-block-post-title block-editor-block-list__block editor-post-title editor-post-title__input rich-text" contenteditable="true" role="textbox" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></h1></div><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="fa454af4-147f-499b-b878-46a0d5ed2a1b" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-fa454af4-147f-499b-b878-46a0d5ed2a1b" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0"><i>I'm not much for romance, but here's an attempt or three at writing a love poem. One to a dream, one to a lover far away, and one all too present</i>.</p><hr aria-label="Block: Separator" class="block-editor-block-list__block wp-block has-alpha-channel-opacity wp-block-separator" data-block="e95d642e-0f26-4e2b-b1d3-4eac91c32bb6" data-title="Separator" data-type="core/separator" id="block-e95d642e-0f26-4e2b-b1d3-4eac91c32bb6" role="document" tabindex="0" /><h1 aria-label="Block: Heading" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-heading rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="333c3871-33a4-43d5-a6e7-bafa72d04725" data-title="Heading" data-type="core/heading" id="block-333c3871-33a4-43d5-a6e7-bafa72d04725" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Against Reality</h1><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="4668069b-14eb-48b4-a804-4441b8b17878" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-4668069b-14eb-48b4-a804-4441b8b17878" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Broken by birdsong, abashed by the lark,<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Shall the sun shut down, so surely, my dreams?<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Never to notice, so novice the wretch,<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Seedlings of stories ascend from the ash?</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="cefb58b3-7cac-49a8-bed9-9282768e9f48" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-cefb58b3-7cac-49a8-bed9-9282768e9f48" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Let not the light mark the last of our meetings!<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />In dreams, our condition (though dismal in truth)<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Will soar past restrictions of spiritless flesh<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />And bring in a bounty; unbearable joy<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />In fiction I find you, though facts be unkind<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />In dreams you adore me, by day you are gone<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />My mind be my master – what matters the world?</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="cefb58b3-7cac-49a8-bed9-9282768e9f48" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-cefb58b3-7cac-49a8-bed9-9282768e9f48" role="document" style="margin-left: 40px; min-width: 1px; text-align: right; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0"><i>– Kell Willsen</i> </p><hr aria-label="Block: Separator" class="block-editor-block-list__block wp-block has-alpha-channel-opacity wp-block-separator" data-block="17c14988-a9cc-4e94-8861-357a775812ae" data-title="Separator" data-type="core/separator" id="block-17c14988-a9cc-4e94-8861-357a775812ae" role="document" tabindex="0" /><h1 aria-label="Block: Heading" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-heading rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="c149fb1b-d423-4b22-8bd7-46c493e5fd56" data-title="Heading" data-type="core/heading" id="block-c149fb1b-d423-4b22-8bd7-46c493e5fd56" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">The Inadequacy of Language</h1><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="f722cd48-44b1-445d-a7b0-65e7ce1897c1" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-f722cd48-44b1-445d-a7b0-65e7ce1897c1" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Can any words describe my dear?<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />What depths within, what grace without,<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />When love-in-action makes it clear<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />That words cannot be set about.</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="4ab54497-c78c-4bd4-ba30-7cb550e42d5f" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-4ab54497-c78c-4bd4-ba30-7cb550e42d5f" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">But words are all I have, so please,<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Accept the love poured into these,<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Forgive that I must tell, not show it,<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Your distant, yet devoted, poet.</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="4ab54497-c78c-4bd4-ba30-7cb550e42d5f" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-4ab54497-c78c-4bd4-ba30-7cb550e42d5f" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: right; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0"><i>– Kell Willsen</i> </p><hr aria-label="Block: Separator" class="block-editor-block-list__block wp-block has-alpha-channel-opacity wp-block-separator" data-block="16b0ac2c-f59d-4c3c-943c-5aae713a3e1f" data-title="Separator" data-type="core/separator" id="block-16b0ac2c-f59d-4c3c-943c-5aae713a3e1f" role="document" tabindex="0" /><h1 aria-label="Block: Heading" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-heading rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="5fa77cda-75e0-4ed1-b5e6-380fbefe9b3e" data-title="Heading" data-type="core/heading" id="block-5fa77cda-75e0-4ed1-b5e6-380fbefe9b3e" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Pretty</h1><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="846cc002-7ef6-43f8-a796-c26431ee0a35" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-846cc002-7ef6-43f8-a796-c26431ee0a35" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Oh, what a pretty thing is love!<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />And so are you.<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />As pretty as a collared dove<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Oh, what a pretty thing is love!<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Reminds me of<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />That blasted bird’s non-stop “hoo-hoo”<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />Oh, what a pretty thing is love!<br data-rich-text-line-break="true" />And so are you.</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="846cc002-7ef6-43f8-a796-c26431ee0a35" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-846cc002-7ef6-43f8-a796-c26431ee0a35" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; text-align: right; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0"><i>– Kell Willsen</i> </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-6518626067145934322023-06-13T08:41:00.000+01:002023-06-13T08:41:00.144+01:00On Fiction<h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><i>A sestina</i></span></h3>
<p>So spin for us a tale<br />With hidden seeds of truth<br />Suspended in a lie.<br />Wise words for those who hear,<br />Bright gems for those who see;<br />Now let the fiction grow.</p>
<p>The simple facts will grow<br />To be a thrilling tale<br />But still, within, we see<br />The origins of truth<br />By sifting what we hear<br />We deconstruct the lie</p>
<p>But let the fiction lie<br />And let the stories grow<br />There is no malice here<br />In spreading such a tale<br />While all still know the truth<br />Unchanging as the sea</p>
<p>And so, until the sea<br />Shall dust and barren lie<br />Shall fiction hold the truth<br />And let the story grow<br />The wisdom of the tale<br />Is there for all to hear</p>
<p>And those who will not hear<br />And those who will not see<br />Enjoy the simple tale<br />Dismiss it as a lie<br />The seed will only grow<br />In those who seek for truth</p>
<p>As fiction holds the truth<br />So truth is ever here<br />Where there is room to grow<br />Upon the endless sea<br />Immortalised to lie<br />And thus concludes my tale</p>
<p>That this is truth, now see<br />Sestina here shall lie<br />To fully grow this tale.</p><p style="text-align: right;">– <i>Kell Willsen</i><br /></p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-37569664790952769242023-05-30T08:34:00.000+01:002023-05-30T08:34:00.129+01:00Procrastinator's Pantoum<p>Playing catch-up isn't fun<br />Time is fleeting, all too short<br />Chasing deadlines at a run<br />Often glimpsed, never caught.</p>
<p>Time is fleeting, all too short<br />Moments of a brief respite<br />Often glimpsed, never caught<br />Rushing onwards out of sight</p>
<p>Moments of a brief respite<br />[[<em>Write a line here to repeat</em>]]<br />Rushing onwards out of sight<br />[[<em>Need to make this verse complete</em>]]</p>
<p>[[<em>Write a line here to repeat</em>]]<br />Chasing deadlines at a run<br />[[<em>Need to make this verse complete</em>]]<br />Playing catch-up isn't fun.</p><p style="text-align: right;">– <i>Kell Willsen</i> <br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-50351799707878414062023-05-16T08:13:00.000+01:002023-05-16T08:13:00.136+01:00Formal Poetry – Why Bother?<p>Although I have always had at least a passing interest in poetry, I can point to one book that took me from mild curiosity to keen student. That book is <i>The Ode Less Travelled</i>, by Stephen Fry. Be warned, his language in places can get a bit... well, let's just say I applied judicious amounts of Tippex before lending my copy to a friend's daughter. However, DIY expurgation aside, it really is a brilliant book. For why? It teaches you how to write poetry.</p>
<p>But surely poetry is something that can't be taught? It must be honest and free, not taught by numbers like learning how to wire a plug! Well, to quote from the book's own introduction:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>"Talent is inborn, technique is learned."</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I'm still working through this book, with its many helpful exercises and examples, but I have already learned one important lesson: <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><strong>Before you can break the rules, you have to know them</strong></span>. The rules of form aren't the be-all and end-all of poetry, but they <span style="text-decoration: underline;">do</span> matter.</p>
<p>As Pascal said: "It is superstition to put one's hope in formalities, but it is pride to be unwilling to submit to them." This is as true in poetry as in anything else: music, art, science, or even just everyday good manners. You are perfectly at liberty to do your own thing, but you ought to know what that is, not just blunder around in the dark.</p>
<p>Once you understand the various forms and techniques at your disposal, you can use them in combination to create something new. You can invert or alter the forms, discard certain rules and even add your own - doing what has been done for thousands of years by poets in every part of the world, in every language. You might rediscover a form that has fallen out of fashion, or re-invent a tired, old pattern.</p>
<p>If there's one thing I'd like people to take from my posts this month, it is that poetry is worth studying. It's not elitist, and it won't strangle your self-expression. There are many resources out there, so why not look around for a book or website that appeals to you. It might be <a href="http://www.shadowpoetry.com/" rel="noopener" target="_blank" title="Shadow Poetry">Shadow Poetry</a>, or <a href="https://www.youngwriters.co.uk/" rel="noopener" target="_blank" title="Young Writers: Poetry and Creative Writing">Young Writers</a> or the <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/" rel="noopener" target="_blank" title="Poetry Foundation">Poetry Foundation</a>, or even <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Poetic_form" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a> (hey, it's a place to start).</p>
<p>I'd like to close with another quote from "The Ode Less Travelled", a slightly longer one this time. After discussing the emotional impact of various types of meter, Fry writes:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>"These effects are not accidental, the substitutions do not come about by chance or through some carefree inability to adhere to the form and hoping for the best. They (the poets discussed in this chapter) studied meter and form constantly... They would no more be unaware of what they were doing than Rubens could be unaware of what he was doing when he added an impasto dot of white to give shine to an eye, or than Beethoven could be unaware of what happened when he diminished a seventh or syncopated a beat. The freedom and ease with which a master can do these things belies immense skill derived from practice."</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Even the most radical, abstract and avant-garde artists started out as diligent students of the established rules, and put in their years of "apprenticeship" on the way to becoming masters. It's a hard road, but a necessary one - and it really is worth it in the end.</p>
<p>TL;DR? Try this:</p>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">Liberation</h2><p style="text-align: left;">Such a lengthy editorial<br />Means a short verse of the day.<br />If you skipped the long tutorial<br />Let me sum it up this way:</p>
<p>Learn the rules before you break them,<br />Art is made by choice, not chance,<br />Dig up old forms once forsaken,<br />Then you can turn all the established meters on their heads or inside out and do whatever<br />you want so long as you do it because you choose to and not because you don't know<br />any better. <em>Bon chance!</em></p><p style="text-align: right;"><em>– Kell Willsen <br /></em></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-81338740480605544112023-04-25T09:30:00.007+01:002023-04-25T09:30:00.148+01:00Uncomfortably Relatable<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9W6tgW3-SOWuDQjaIJUF9dMvOWZS6DCAHiUEG95o9uIFQdeB3NqXmUV20kOAUD05ShKnAqtheKlYBTCyVse1xP6PYpO4f5AKjxK4Npa-L6RFPCikJJYckaT8kh7p3vvyZ8K-8BX1xjwsAls3Pg8AXc8vKOZtQJvR9DTekE0QPxeQZJmEvg1ebF_r/s400/U.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter U" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio9W6tgW3-SOWuDQjaIJUF9dMvOWZS6DCAHiUEG95o9uIFQdeB3NqXmUV20kOAUD05ShKnAqtheKlYBTCyVse1xP6PYpO4f5AKjxK4Npa-L6RFPCikJJYckaT8kh7p3vvyZ8K-8BX1xjwsAls3Pg8AXc8vKOZtQJvR9DTekE0QPxeQZJmEvg1ebF_r/w200-h200/U.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />It’s great when we see ourselves in stories, isn’t it? And I don’t just mean characters who match our appearance, neurotype, or other group identity, I mean when characters do or say or <i>think</i> things that make us go, “Wow, that’s me!” Or when the narrative gives the reason for what the character does and it could have been written about you.<p></p><p>Yes, it’s great — usually. We love to find heroic, funny, clever characters to be relatable. We even like having flaws in common with them. But what happens when we relate to the “wrong” character?</p><p>This happened to me when I read the first “Red Dwarf” novelisation, <i>Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers</i>. The TV series showed what the characters said and did, but the beauty of a novel is that it allows the author to show characters’ thoughts as well. On top of that, novels can easily incorporate backstory elements; so we got to see the past experiences of the characters instead of just hearing about them in bits of dialogue. </p><p>Here’s a passage that I found to be painfully relatable: </p><p></p><blockquote><p>He found the process of revising so gruellingly unpleasant, so galling, so noxious that, like most people faced with task they find hateful, he devised more and more elaborate ways of not doing it in a ‘doing it’ kind of way.</p><p>In fact, it was now possible for him to revise solidly for three months and not learn anything at all.</p><p>The first week of study, he would always devote to the construction of a revision timetable. [...] Every hour of every day was subdivided into different study periods, each labelled in his lovely, tiny copperplate hand; then painted over in watercolours, a different colour for each subject, the colours gradually becoming bolder and more urgent shades as the exam time approached. The effect was as if a myriad tiny rainbow had splintered and sprinkled across the poster-sized sheet of creamwove card.</p><p>The only problem was this: because the timetables often took seven or eight weeks, and sometimes more, to complete, by the time he’d finished them the exam was almost on him. He’d then have to cram three months of revision into a single week. Gripped by an almost deranging panic, he’d then decide to sacrifice the first two days of that final week to the making of another timetable. This time for someone who had to pack three months of revision into five days. </p></blockquote><p></p><p>[<i>A few anxiety-ridden days later, filled with everything </i>except<i> revision…</i>]</p><p></p><blockquote><p>...the final day’s revision before his exam.</p><p>Waking at four-thirty in the morning, after exercising, showering and breakfasting, he would sit down to prepare a final, final revision timetable, which would condense three months of revision into twelve short hours. This done, he would give up and go back to bed.</p><p>Which was why he failed exams.</p></blockquote><p></p><p>Now, as the narration says, most people do this kind of “busy work” to avoid hated tasks. So this character’s pretty relatable, isn’t he? Great!</p><p>Wait, who is he again? </p><p>It’s Rimmer.</p><p>Yes, we just related to <i>Arnold J. Rimmer</i>. Are you horrified yet? If not, I’m going to assume it’s because you don’t know who he is. Trust me, you do <i>not</i> want to have anything in common with this character. Only you might just have discovered — like I did — that you do, actually, share a flaw with him.</p><p>Now what?</p><p>Well, one result is that I developed a degree of empathy for this character. Hats off to Grant & Naylor, they created a joke character and then humanised him. And, if there’s a human side to <i>Rimmer</i> of all people, then maybe there’s a human side to the real-life cringe characters out there, even the really annoying ones. </p><p>Well, maybe.</p><p>The other result is that whenever I catch myself procrastinating by making increasing detailed plans, I can tell myself that I’m being like Rimmer and I need to stop. </p><p>Now.</p><p>Because, there might be a human side to Rimmer, but he’s still <i>Rimmer</i>. </p><p>Eugh!<br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-36197604284230035742023-04-22T11:29:00.001+01:002023-04-29T22:54:55.470+01:00SpecFic on the Spectrum<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJJHCkL2JavU99umoSJtoKUMQ4O-iM64cMoe9NDFKVFAAQC8frwoTBKfUwLQ8bWVZMSIh0oKwtlGL8-l8DNXbrpGr9KBN6RQrq_xE2Lww28-1oOf_ot4zkrZFiGeKqeEUi_aUBVBBiFCFZBO4WpOUG4l6eWG_Sz97iBEDnMtRiJk3_rd6c0t9lG6S/s400/S.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter S" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJJHCkL2JavU99umoSJtoKUMQ4O-iM64cMoe9NDFKVFAAQC8frwoTBKfUwLQ8bWVZMSIh0oKwtlGL8-l8DNXbrpGr9KBN6RQrq_xE2Lww28-1oOf_ot4zkrZFiGeKqeEUi_aUBVBBiFCFZBO4WpOUG4l6eWG_Sz97iBEDnMtRiJk3_rd6c0t9lG6S/w200-h200/S.jpg" width="200"><span style="color: rgb(55, 71, 79); letter-spacing: 0.2px;"><br></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJJHCkL2JavU99umoSJtoKUMQ4O-iM64cMoe9NDFKVFAAQC8frwoTBKfUwLQ8bWVZMSIh0oKwtlGL8-l8DNXbrpGr9KBN6RQrq_xE2Lww28-1oOf_ot4zkrZFiGeKqeEUi_aUBVBBiFCFZBO4WpOUG4l6eWG_Sz97iBEDnMtRiJk3_rd6c0t9lG6S/s400/S.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br></a></div><p>One of the (many) misconceptions that seem to exist around neurodivergent brains is that autistic people don’t like fiction. Something about a fondness for accuracy and a desire to research things deeply seems to come across to neurotypical brains as “having no imagination”, or “being obsessed with facts”. And, to a neurotypical mind, these traits are incompatible with enjoying fiction.</p><p>Now, I can only speak for myself (obviously) but I <em>love</em> stories. I read them, I watch them, I listen to them, I play them — I even write them! Stories, when well-constructed, <em>make sense</em>. And nowhere is this more evident than is the realm of Speculative Fiction, or SpecFic. </p><p>Stories set in the real world don’t bother to explain things that the authors see as obvious. If you read a contemporary drama, you are expected to “just know” a number of things, and the author only explains when they differ from the expected norm — which can provide a fascinating glimpse into the author’s definition of “normal”, by the way.</p><p>Speculative fiction doesn’t have that luxury. A writer of SpecFic has to do their own world-building, and the reader is not expected to “just know” any of it. Good SpecFic writers reveal their worlds through the words and actions of the characters; bad writers deliver pages of pointless info dumping. But either way, the writers <em>explain their world</em>.</p><p>Likewise, the character actions are meant to flow in a logical way, and the dialogue is stylised so as to strip out most of the small talk. Good quality fiction relates to the real world but with a much better signal-to-noise ratio. Also better plotlines, but I digress. </p><p>Anyway, my point isn’t to claim that all neurodivergent people love SpecFic, or even that fiction is somehow “better” than non-fiction. My point is that I am autistic, and I enjoy SpecFic, and therefore the “fact” that all autistic people prefer non-fiction is demonstrably false. </p><p>Lesson: It’s pretty pointless to try to predict people’s preferences predicated on only one parameter.</p><p>Addendum: Alliteration is awesome. 😁</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-16984558287254259662023-04-21T18:30:00.002+01:002023-06-16T12:05:12.847+01:00Rallying<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSWjyetz4JAwwJAlKUIBXN_aNU7YUAyogZPDKt-YTvpD6l9XiR_SSTYGNyujgzp-Z0HCyTQrxy2nIBddHDvO9p474bpNxAz782zLpoN7Uwkv2HOa5h2I9l9EklTlOedNsvpOtH8qyzJifxe07CCu0sfG9HAICDd6dy2-HAInhsnAPeqRPIlqWEGax/s400/R.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter R" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSWjyetz4JAwwJAlKUIBXN_aNU7YUAyogZPDKt-YTvpD6l9XiR_SSTYGNyujgzp-Z0HCyTQrxy2nIBddHDvO9p474bpNxAz782zLpoN7Uwkv2HOa5h2I9l9EklTlOedNsvpOtH8qyzJifxe07CCu0sfG9HAICDd6dy2-HAInhsnAPeqRPIlqWEGax/w200-h200/R.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Coming back from the <a href="https://kell-willsen.blogspot.com/2023/04/middles.html">slumping middle</a>, expect backdated updates over the next few <strike>days</strike> <i>months</i>.<p></p><p>The uphill battle that is catching up is rather discouraging, and it's tempting to give up at this point. I'll have to work at double speed to finish on time, and that seems a pretty big ask considering how slowly I've been going so far. Perhaps it's time to chalk this up as one big Bad Idea and call it a day? </p><p>It's at times like this that I need to remember the heroic and tragic "plot embryo" structures. When I first learned about these two character arc templates, I was surprised to realise that they are almost identical at the start. </p><p>Both the heroic and the tragic protagonist discover a need, set a goal, and take steps to achieve it. Both meet with and overcome various obstacles, until they hit their lowest point. Then the paths diverge.</p><p>The tragic protagonist becomes overwhelmed by despair, and their story ends. Often in death, either of the character or of their dreams. There's no way back from this, and the character is lost. The heroic protagonist also faces despair, but is able to resist it and move on to the rest of their story. </p><p>Although the tragedy is usually foreshadowed, there is often a moment where the tragic protagonist <i>could</i> have turned the story around. The Valjean/Javert contrast, where they both have their lives turned upside down by a single act of kindness -- and the different reactions they have to that moment. One to hope, a new life, and a sense of purpose; the other to despair and death. </p><p>The tragic and heroic are so closely intertwined that we usually can't tell which path we're on until we look back. In this moment, I choose to see how much work lies ahead of me, accept that I haven't made the best choices with respect to my stated goals, and then <i>keep going</i>. <br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-46107507870738649862023-04-18T18:17:00.108+01:002023-04-24T21:27:49.893+01:00Outlines: Love 'Em or Hate 'Em?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZISvMocIlfFcOfzoub4zxWZlowvYZH8gY27RDB9o5i3Hqb2LIvJ5Ke5OQ8iB23Sdgt2CU84-am0fz_s_C2iyA7-Cq-wA0J8ArfFlhdcpD5MV8e8KXc_0vzps-G5pXYOnA24h6BFlxaSQ0tEuYIZgAbv05tGU-GuHBLJ8nW1L8mQGEOp3EGASwAerx/s400/O.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter O" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZISvMocIlfFcOfzoub4zxWZlowvYZH8gY27RDB9o5i3Hqb2LIvJ5Ke5OQ8iB23Sdgt2CU84-am0fz_s_C2iyA7-Cq-wA0J8ArfFlhdcpD5MV8e8KXc_0vzps-G5pXYOnA24h6BFlxaSQ0tEuYIZgAbv05tGU-GuHBLJ8nW1L8mQGEOp3EGASwAerx/w200-h200/O.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>I’ve been a committed planner ever since I started to write. Words have always felt too slow, even while I loved them, so I had to tell my stories in big, sweeping strokes first, just to capture it before it could get away. This may be an AuDHD thing, but no-one knew that at the time. All I knew was that I wanted to tell people my awesome story <b>now</b>, and not after ten minutes’ set-up — but without that set-up the story made no sense. So...</p><p>So my oral stories were pretty much impossible for anyone to understand, and they’d slip through my fingers before I could get a proper hold on them. There was a sort of transporter-portal thing, and a flooded castle (<i>mansion?</i>) and a feud and a pending disaster and...</p><p>And then I began to write.</p><p>Suddenly I could get the bones down on paper and fill in the gaps later. The core ideas were captured, and the story could grow from this seed (to thoroughly mix my metaphors) into something like the magnificent whole I had glimpsed when the story first arrived in my head.</p><p>I fell in love with outlining. And while I understand people who feel that an outline restricts their creativity, I know that for me an outline is more like a climbing frame. It gives me a solid structure on which to build, and lets me go higher and further than I could on open ground. </p><p>A recent conversation with a friend provided another reason I might be attracted to outlines. We were talking about memory, and how odd it can be. My friend said that when she thinks back on her day, she can remember the “bullet points” — where she went, what tasks she did, and so on; but she struggles to remember the “in between” moments: how she got from A to B, brief conversations between important tasks, etc. When she said that, I realised that my memory works in a similar way. For example, I can remember that conversation, but not what was said before or after.</p><p>In other words, when I write an outline for a story I’m thinking about it in the same way that I process real-life events. I think in bullet points, and fill in the details later. And because different brains work in different ways, other people probably have different ways of processing memories. </p><p>When I read novels that included diary entries, I used to feel that the novelist was using a bit — or a lot — of poetic license with how people write real diaries. Surely there’s no dialogue, no detailed descriptions, no smooth flow of events in chronological order in a <i>real</i> diary? It’s more likely to be a collection of isolated incidents, or a simple list of events, or a rant about the weather. </p><p>Well, that’s what <i>my</i> diaries were like. </p><p>But perhaps there really are people who can sit down and write a scene — invented or remembered — as a coherent narrative right out of the gate. Who don’t need to jump right to the most important part and then go back and do the build-up afterwards. There might be people who can type at the speed of thought, and get their stories down entire and complete in one go. </p><p>But I am not one of those people, and so I will go right on using outlines. And telling long, rambling stories that branch off and circle around, and lose themselves in…</p><p><i>[This post was written without the benefit of an outline.]</i></p><p><br /><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-18138360176602417982023-04-17T17:10:00.157+01:002023-05-05T12:34:30.242+01:00NaNoWriMo: Y/N?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwsFgKScOytdt2s6EGihwtQ8i8eZ69dGWTgGEZAqOfOvBi37wQuGS9kcPTUZUVwq-y04qwF3y2dkoDu6ojSEFTyiEjuF2FOWH7Gh4f089y6izxGSpSavh7ccMbMUMJvolK50RiM5mpuEaDe2B711NtWgLaaIB3Tjb-taSR031R849AE4Pl2SIAl9HU/s400/N.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter N" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwsFgKScOytdt2s6EGihwtQ8i8eZ69dGWTgGEZAqOfOvBi37wQuGS9kcPTUZUVwq-y04qwF3y2dkoDu6ojSEFTyiEjuF2FOWH7Gh4f089y6izxGSpSavh7ccMbMUMJvolK50RiM5mpuEaDe2B711NtWgLaaIB3Tjb-taSR031R849AE4Pl2SIAl9HU/w200-h200/N.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>National Novel Writing Month has been a thing since 1999, growing organically from a small group of friends in one town to a huge non-profit spanning the globe. <a href="http://web.archive.org/web/20170324040124/http://nanowrimo.org/history" target="_blank">The whole story can be found here</a>, and <a href="https://nanowrimo.org/about-nano" target="_blank">the official website</a> can tell you anything you want to know about what it is and how to get involved. I'm here to discuss why I join the challenge most years, and why I sometimes don't.<p></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">It's a Challenge, Not a Contest</h4><p>One of the things I like best about NaNoWriMo is that it encourages writers to see each other as companions, not competitors. It doesn't matter how many people reach their target, or how quickly they do it. The only metric of success is: "Did I reach my goal?" Not being the fastest, or the furthest, or the most published, or the more popular. It's a personal challenge that you work on in company with other writers.</p><p>This is an important point for writers, especially fiction writers, to take on board: We're not competing with other writers in our genres. If someone enjoys my book, and I enjoy your book, then I'm going to send my readers to you and (I hope) vice-versa. The reader gets more to enjoy, and the writers get to grow and share their audience. NaNoWriMo is a good way of promoting that mindset, and reminding ourselves that we are storytellers first and foremost. <br /></p><p><b>It's Still a Numbers Game, Though</b></p><p>As I'll be discussing in a couple of days, raw numbers aren't always the best way to measure success. I'm still discovering the needs of my AuDHD brain, but one possibility is that numbered goals can be a source of stress rather than motivation. Last November I didn't get anywhere near my 50k goal, but I did manage to write something every day for 30 days straight. And that felt like a real achievement!</p><p></p><p>I normally resist "streak" thinking, because it only takes one bad day to ruin months of work. So a workable metric for me is to set myself a target percentage, rather than counting unbroken streaks. Missing three days in a month is a 90% success rate. Missing 36 days across a year is a <i>better</i> than 90% success rate, even though that's more than <i>five weeks'</i> worth of missed days.<br /></p><p></p><p></p><p> Most productivity and self-study guides suggest that anything above 80% is a pass, and so that's my target. Anything over that 80% is a <i>bonus</i>, not the new baseline standard. </p><p>So: NaNo yes or NaNo no? It depends entirely on how you like to write, and what you find motivating. Sometimes I'm in a "numbers" mood, and take pleasure in charting my progress. Other times, I simply get frustrated and blocked over how far behind I am. When I'm in that kind of headspace, I need to find a different motivator. But I do recommend checking it out. The community forums are amazing, and the pep talks are available in the archives. Take a look, use what you can, and don't force yourself into anything that isn't a good fit.<br /></p><p>Actually, that's a pretty good rule for most advice now that I come to think about it.<br /></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-83659753339256655822023-04-15T11:00:00.012+01:002023-05-01T16:19:11.975+01:00Middles<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKTVRNhrH9MMWTqMKn2s-OSDUASrfZ1zknu1pf8LxvaZBNGtyYFIu31syv_Bby_xCpjjmpZDj4wIOZbUmYFsfcpAM_aopM4iVM80dZ2bIw1Sfa-EnYHpA1YpWkwiPlRGErZoPeQuKenA-F4_V1kbRQ1JJx-E5qXh6cnI8l7jlEIk0dZMlvK_p8-Qh/s400/M.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter M" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKTVRNhrH9MMWTqMKn2s-OSDUASrfZ1zknu1pf8LxvaZBNGtyYFIu31syv_Bby_xCpjjmpZDj4wIOZbUmYFsfcpAM_aopM4iVM80dZ2bIw1Sfa-EnYHpA1YpWkwiPlRGErZoPeQuKenA-F4_V1kbRQ1JJx-E5qXh6cnI8l7jlEIk0dZMlvK_p8-Qh/w200-h200/M.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>Those of you following these posts live will have noticed that there is a gap in posting, which is in the process of being filled. (If you’re here on an archive crawl from the future, then please pretend that I was supremely organised and had everything queued up weeks in advance.) This “slump” is the curse of the middle: my constant companion in all projects, great and small.</p><p>Case in point: Act Two of <i>The Avlem Burden</i> is doing my head in. </p><p>I know where the story is going. I know what the characters are doing. I know why, and how, and all the things, because I’ve procrastinated on the writing by overthinking every detail of this story. The only thing left to do is write the draft, and that’s exactly what I’m not doing. </p><p>Why do you think I impulsively jumped into the A-Z challenge this year? To avoid working on TAB, of course!</p><p>And now this challenge is also a project, and has reached the middle, and is, of course, becoming a chore. I thought I might trick myself into writing TAB in order to avoid blogging, but that didn’t work. It’s hard to outsmart your own brain, especially on purpose.</p><p>I have two options now, as I see it. Well, three if you count “giving up” but I’m not going to so that’s out and we’re back to two. </p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>I could summon up all of my (meagre) willpower and <i>make</i> myself sit down and write.</li><li>I could step back and remind myself <i>why</i> I want to write, and where I’m going with all these words. </li></ol><p>Willpower on its own simply doesn’t work for me. I know it works for some people, and I watch in amazement as they show up day after day no matter their mood out of sheer determination. </p><p>I am not filled with determination. I am filled with procrastination. </p><p>But option two doesn’t work on its own, either. I can think about how much the <i>Fragments</i> cycle means to me, and why the A-Z challenge is so much fun — think and think and think! It ramps up my desire to finish, but does nothing to move me forward. </p><p>Engaging the gears is useless without also pressing the accelerator.</p><p>Pressing the accelerator is useless without also engaging the gears. </p><p>I need both drive and determination if I’m going to get through this murky middle and catch up with my goals on the other side. Drive, determination, and a little help from my friends. </p><p>Thank you to everyone who’s commented so far. I will be returning the favour ASAP. Meanwhile, I’ll be over here, catching up on my work and trying to avoid stalling. </p><p> Again. <br /></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-46905606755580541472023-04-14T18:26:00.068+01:002023-06-16T12:04:49.395+01:00Light Verse<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSN9rls1xOgacVLVFzU7xKuYpdyf_zI-U83L5vP0oUvMiTpkvyimuRHIsrkpisQnwsZrsULRkuJyxw6GI1VIMi-7fCQ1UDTy3yqbie7uE_iQB5fhcU6LR7buFU0GZiNkqPMOzukKE_EEkcC5QCmRq0sxuJe1ZaTOftwTwLvP5bDUrAaPGjh2AXE56/s400/L.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter L" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSN9rls1xOgacVLVFzU7xKuYpdyf_zI-U83L5vP0oUvMiTpkvyimuRHIsrkpisQnwsZrsULRkuJyxw6GI1VIMi-7fCQ1UDTy3yqbie7uE_iQB5fhcU6LR7buFU0GZiNkqPMOzukKE_EEkcC5QCmRq0sxuJe1ZaTOftwTwLvP5bDUrAaPGjh2AXE56/w200-h200/L.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>April is <i><del>the cruellest</del></i>, um, I mean <i>poetry</i> month. The internet is breaking out in ballads, getting drenched in doggerel, and lighting up with light verse. <br /></p><p><a href="https://www.poetrysoup.com/dictionary/light_verse" target="_blank">Light verse</a> is often set in opposition to “serious” poetry, an insubstantial bit of froth compared to the deep, intellectual, and <i>meaningful</i> efforts of Real Poets™. </p><p></p><p></p><blockquote>“The interesting thing is that you don’t often meet a poet who doesn’t have a sense of humour, and some of them do keep it out of their poems because they’re afraid of being seen as light versifiers.” — Wendy Cope</blockquote><p>The finest celebration of light verse I’ve read lately is <a href="https://brianbilston.com/2019/06/13/diary-of-a-somebody-2/"><em>Diary of a Somebody</em> by Brian Bilston</a>. This delightful slice-of-life mystery comic thriller holds a whole year’s worth of poetry which, in the words Bilston’s hated rival, Toby Salt, “lacks gravitas and soul”. But not even Salt could claim that Brian Bilston’s work lacks heart. </p><p>The book makes a lot of references, and there is a helpful list in the back in case you don’t recognise anything. The jokes are funnier if you spot the references, but I think most of them stand up quite well just on their own (well, maybe not 27th June).</p><p>Where is Toby Salt? Who is Liz interested in? What terrible secret is hiding in the shed? Will the man at No. 29 ever put his bins out correctly? All this, and plenty of light verse, in <i>Diary of a Somebody</i>. <br /></p><p><b></b></p><blockquote><b>Lesson:</b> Don't let fear of ridicule stifle your voice. </blockquote><br /><p></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-57872646272136991692023-04-13T13:30:00.058+01:002023-06-17T10:33:35.684+01:00Kindness<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqWL1yJNqQ-cCzdpQvShEFdwlqnBaWnZlySpzL_LR0zd8XD45i6eeTysTIlZ538KbR4EhN76ex1qGStmRUwW5r42v7CnS1dX7GFrLmG03kGcjQHeubDQ0klwYAH8g9ouy8krUY1ta4aob4702HjsJM1G3ZfN0U4CNUFoVYgtx1IEXUps058oXsqyBK/s400/K.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2023 letter K" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqWL1yJNqQ-cCzdpQvShEFdwlqnBaWnZlySpzL_LR0zd8XD45i6eeTysTIlZ538KbR4EhN76ex1qGStmRUwW5r42v7CnS1dX7GFrLmG03kGcjQHeubDQ0klwYAH8g9ouy8krUY1ta4aob4702HjsJM1G3ZfN0U4CNUFoVYgtx1IEXUps058oXsqyBK/w200-h200/K.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">Content Warning</span></h2><p style="text-align: left;">This post is the third and last on the theme of sensitivity and offence – deliberate or otherwise. Everything will be from my perspective, and the views expressed are not intended as guidance of any kind. </p><p style="text-align: left;">If this is a delicate subject for you, please skip forward to tomorrow’s topic: <a href="https://kell-willsen.blogspot.com/2023/04/light-verse.html">Light Verse</a>. Thank you.</p><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p style="text-align: left;">Kindness, genuine kindness, is a wonderful thing. Unfortunately, there are many less wonderful behaviours that get called “kindness”, when they’re nothing of the kind. These include:</p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li style="text-align: left;">Kindness as a power move</li><li style="text-align: left;">Kindness as virtue signalling</li><li style="text-align: left;">Transactional kindness</li></ul><h4 style="text-align: left;">Kindness as a Power Move</h4><p style="text-align: left;">This is the “kindness” of self-conscious patronage, often called (disparagingly) “charity”. People love to give this sort of kindness out, because it’s a huge ego-boost. It is made up of words and actions that scream: “Here, lowly creature, let me stoop down and aid you.”</p><p style="text-align: left;">Which is why most people are proud of never taking charity, and feel humiliated if the need is forced on them. This false kindness sets out to benefit the receiver, but really exists to serve the needs of the giver. And woe betide the subject of such charity if they fail to show proper gratitude! </p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><blockquote><i>Ask: If my offer of help is refused, am I offended? If so, why?</i></blockquote><p></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">Kindness as Virtue Signalling</h4><p style="text-align: left;">This is related to “charity”, but is more performative. In words, actions, body-language, clothes we say “Look at me being nice to these poor people! I’m so kind!” The receivers don’t matter at all in this equation, it is all about the giver and the giver’s peers. If the audience disappears, so does the kindness.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><i></i></p><blockquote><i>Ask: Do I need my kindness to be acknowledged? How do I feel if no-one knows about it?</i></blockquote><p></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">Transactional Kindness</h4><p style="text-align: left;">Also known as “Nice Guy” Syndrome, this is when you’re nice to someone with the expectation that they will return the favour on your terms. The trade is rarely equal, with small acts of basic human decency offered as a down payment on enormous favours, but that’s not my biggest problem with this type of “kindness”. The thing that I find most horrible about it is that it assumes selfishness, even cruelty, to be “normal” behaviour, and anything else to be an entry in the credit column of social interaction. </p><p style="text-align: left;"><i></i></p><blockquote><i>Ask: Do I wonder if being kind is “worth it”? If so, what “worth” am I expecting?</i></blockquote><p></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">Genuine Kindness</h4><p style="text-align: left;">Genuine kindness has many faces. It’s can’t be described easily, but we know it when we see it. It comes from a place of respect, love, and sincerity.</p><p style="text-align: left;">In <i>The Avlem Burden</i>, Brinnesha has to identify and correct all sorts of mistaken kindnesses in her behaviour. Ironically, it’s only once she learns to show genuine kindness and respect to others that she finally earns the genuine respect of the “lesser” people who had been the subject of her patronising, ostentatious “kindness” in the past. </p><p style="text-align: left;">At least, this is the plan. She’s still stuck in the “why don’t people appreciate me?!” mindset at the moment. I need to get back to the draft, so that she can move past that.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-70244527851542382402023-04-12T11:00:00.011+01:002023-06-17T10:37:13.616+01:00Justification<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3z8haxJsL6QcaR5-tehbolAIWtGWnBwlX22BPyv5g0h98kpexe5MkE_tmBykMz0q8YJHL8IW5sWIlhKQcMBguZqawMunBBlX274uXnwyTs5ilgf60sqGVRhO3cZCQx6SIlJmE9NucbgegRtJ00KAfyCsV-iE0KCWklWxSyP2Xc5T_MEDPPhfeU46O/s400/J.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter J" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3z8haxJsL6QcaR5-tehbolAIWtGWnBwlX22BPyv5g0h98kpexe5MkE_tmBykMz0q8YJHL8IW5sWIlhKQcMBguZqawMunBBlX274uXnwyTs5ilgf60sqGVRhO3cZCQx6SIlJmE9NucbgegRtJ00KAfyCsV-iE0KCWklWxSyP2Xc5T_MEDPPhfeU46O/w200-h200/J.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><h2 style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: red;">Content Warning</b></h2><p>This post and the next are continuing the theme of
sensitivity and offence – deliberate or otherwise. Everything will be
from my perspective, and the views expressed are not intended as
guidance of any kind. <br /></p><p>If this is a delicate subject for you, please skip forward to <a href="https://kell-willsen.blogspot.com/2023/04/light-verse.html">Light Verse</a>. Thank you.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="text-align: left;"><p>In Earther 27, Kerrig considers his blind hatred of all things “Outsider” to be fair and right because of the injustice done to his parents’ generation by their parents’ generation. In other words, his attitude is justified by his being the victim of injustice.</p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>In The Avlem Burden, Brinnesha Tynar justifies her rule-breaking behaviour on the grounds that it’s in the service of a greater justice. In other words, when called out on her own misbehaviour, Brinnesha falls back on the plaintive cry of childhood:</p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote><p>“It’s not fair!” </p></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>Yes, even as little children, we seem to have an instinct for fair play. Justice matters, long before we know the word. But a second instinct can sometimes fight against our need for fairness:</p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote><p>“It’s not my fault!”</p></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>The urge to justify our behaviour seems to intensify when we suspect that it may very well be our fault after all. But, equally, we yearn to argue our innocence when falsely accused. It takes a bit of practice at self-examination to tell which instinct is driving our own justifications, and it’s impossible to accurately judge another person’s reasons for justifying their actions. </p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>When someone else causes me to feel offended, is it always a deliberate attack? When someone takes offence at my actions, is it always because they’re being oversensitive?</p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>How horribly easy it is to assume the best motives for ourselves, and the worst motives for everyone else’s! If I snap at someone it's because I'm hungry and tired, or in pain, or because they're being deliberately obtuse. If someone else snaps at me it's because they are bad tempered, and in need of self-control. If I allow myself a treat, it's because I've earned it. If I see someone else indulging, it's proof that they are lacking in moral fibre. </p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>Justification is a completely normal defence mechanism, but it’s easily over-used. When I start to justify something, I need to be very careful about why. We rarely justify things that seem right to us, but often work hard to argue in favour of things we feel, deep-down, to be wrong. </p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p></p></div><blockquote style="text-align: left;"><ul><li>“It’s not really cheating if...” </li><li>“It’s not stealing exactly, it’s more like...”</li><li>“It’s only wrong if you get caught”</li><li>“Everybody does/says/feels that sometimes”</li></ul></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><p></p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>Sound familiar?</p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>It takes courage to be honest with ourselves about our own behaviour, and it seems like a lot of pain and effort for no return. Isn’t it easier to go through life assuming that I am the only sane, decent, moral person in the world, and labelling everyone else as toxic, hateful, selfish? </p></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p>Easier, maybe, but it gets lonely after a while. What might give us the courage to admit to our own errors, and the compassion to be lenient with others? Perhaps a little kindness? </p></div><p><br /><br /></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-71148375085033904862023-04-11T16:30:00.030+01:002023-06-17T10:38:01.475+01:00Intent and Injury<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDdYUrKYIfor5nOKsuRzCPlb0Z-Z9kYC9IpmuvacvqsmS7AYybFUqLSRQILSBmiiJs9KDEbGh6trzsKfOGQO1PZLLb3fRZ5jGYXMEK5GwxAMTsSgorCinD9npcJcLBv_ysfo8JCMwqGACNXhb16LOfeIvL7a5sm-d1pkkC60ewFO6rRThp8rI9wLY/s400/I.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter I" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDdYUrKYIfor5nOKsuRzCPlb0Z-Z9kYC9IpmuvacvqsmS7AYybFUqLSRQILSBmiiJs9KDEbGh6trzsKfOGQO1PZLLb3fRZ5jGYXMEK5GwxAMTsSgorCinD9npcJcLBv_ysfo8JCMwqGACNXhb16LOfeIvL7a5sm-d1pkkC60ewFO6rRThp8rI9wLY/w200-h200/I.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><h2 style="text-align: center;"><b style="color: red;">Content Warning</b></h2><p>These next three posts are going to be about the minefield that is sensitivity and offence – deliberate or otherwise. Everything will be from my perspective, and the views expressed are not intended as guidance of any kind. <br /></p><p>If this is a delicate subject for you, please skip forward to <a href="Light Verse">Light Verse</a>. Thank you.</p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>In <em>Earther 27</em>, I explore themes of oppression from the viewpoint of the victim. In <em>The Avlem Burden</em>, we see things from the oppressor’s angle – and it’s not a simple case of good and evil for anyone.</p><p>Brinnesha Tynar is very aware of her inherited Avlem privilege, and would rather die than cause a moment’s pain to any of the “downtrodden Elementals” who live and work in and around her town. She never intends harm, but she does so very much of it out of sheer ignorance.</p><p>To develop the character of Brinnesha, I initially thought that I would draw on my experiences of observing this ignorant behaviour in others. But I realised quite quickly that I had plenty of my own mistakes to learn from. Times when I’d unintentionally hurt someone and only found out when it was too late. And how I felt, and still feel, when these mistakes come to light.</p><p>The first response is almost always defensive. I can’t really have hurt anyone, can I? I don’t do that kind of thing, and anyway I didn’t mean to. These days that defensive response is usually out of the way in seconds, though the greater the injury the harder it is to get past the “not my fault!” instinct.</p><p>It’s tempting to reason that only Bad People do Bad Things, and since I am, of course, a Good Person, it is impossible that I should ever do a Bad Thing. Hurting people is Bad, I’m Good, therefore I don’t hurt people. QED.</p><p>It is hard — and indeed, painful — to admit to myself that I might have done something that I need to apologise for. Really apologise, not “I’m sorry (<em>sad to hear</em>) that you’re upset” but “I’m sorry (<em>feel regret</em>) that I caused you pain”. </p><p>Is there ever a place for “I didn’t mean it”? Maybe. Personally, I like to assume that people who've hurt me didn’t do so on purpose. It makes it easier to let it go, and put the pain behind me. The few times I’ve been on the receiving end of deliberate abuse have been harder to forget than the many times people have touched raw nerves by accident. </p><p>So, I’m going to assume mistake rather than malice wherever possible, but not everyone can make that assumption. So a sincere apology is the best thing any of us can do when we realise that we’ve blundered. And if I must offer an excuse, let it be to ease the other person’s hurt and not my own. </p><p>Of course, “I didn’t mean to…” isn’t the only excuse triggered by the defensive reaction. There’s a whole load of justifications that can spew out if I’m not careful — but that’s a topic for tomorrow’s post.</p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-86562081323861088312023-04-10T09:30:00.238+01:002023-04-14T18:33:13.285+01:00How Do You Say...?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGR6O8AJqBc8VoqlHipighXTl9_BolqqjKR5a40fGDITTfKP7emQ-cJMARRXG_9NrU2IkR0NM4Ib2TkSO3mQQoGumVmsV1mOzPN2zslXO3yAFdshf-0EFLg5WCyf1Ke6rMO03-DoHL8keukEDAm7jsPQAAzd1bNRvwqRkylntaRf3BzU_FQDz_T75I/s400/H.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter H" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGR6O8AJqBc8VoqlHipighXTl9_BolqqjKR5a40fGDITTfKP7emQ-cJMARRXG_9NrU2IkR0NM4Ib2TkSO3mQQoGumVmsV1mOzPN2zslXO3yAFdshf-0EFLg5WCyf1Ke6rMO03-DoHL8keukEDAm7jsPQAAzd1bNRvwqRkylntaRf3BzU_FQDz_T75I/w200-h200/H.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>I try to be light on the personal details in this blog, but it's not giving away any secrets to reveal that I've recently moved (back) to Wales. Despite having family there, and thinking of it as "home away from home" for most of my life, I've never managed to get to grips with the Welsh language. Well, now I'm trying again.</p><p>Being a language learner who is first-language English is a mixed blessing in this information age. Resources are plentiful, and it's easy to find other learners, but the sheer ubiquity of English means that most Welsh speakers can speak and understand English. And so, when I begin to struggle, they switch to my language out of a desire to be polite and/or speed the conversation along a bit. </p><p>This makes me self-conscious about making mistakes, hesitating, or even looking confused. And because I'm self-conscious, I make more mistakes, hesitate more, and spend most interactions looking (and feeling) confused; not to mention more than a little stupid.</p><p>But why? I don't think that other people are stupid, slow, or annoying if they don't speak perfect English. And I'm confident enough in BSL (British Sign Language) even though I know that I still make mistakes. There are probably lots of reasons, but I think that part of it could be about immersion. </p><p>When someone struggles with English, and I can't speak their first language, we have no choice but to keep going. With BSL, switching to English takes more effort than sticking to sign. But with Welsh, it's quicker and easier to use English when the I can't think of a word. </p><p>Having the "easy out" of using English, I don't try to rephrase my sentences or get creative with descriptors – I just say the word in English. And once the conversation is in English, that tends to be where it stays. 😕<br /></p><p></p><h4 style="text-align: center;">Lesson Eight</h4><p>It's OK to make mistakes. Say <i>something</i> instead of awkward silence. And remember how to say, "Please speak Welsh to me, I want to learn."<br /></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-54397738372908527362023-04-08T22:49:00.284+01:002023-04-12T22:35:37.953+01:00Gritty vs. Grown Up<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkZhma26tUOZ4kza4RbAshq8CkLQ-X2yXJfVDA4DPxcmmPKV6cigWDWOU-UIvhb--BIdICeXDfuUTlcnUEqrbKilbgEvh53tCVS-gTOgPV1PtzjT4Mh2QFOBdPXIiYV60msbQ-TD78mTBVuICRcd16oHmrTWDLD_SEmDfzdHnO_ERDv6QY2R3cIdQ/s400/G.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter G" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkZhma26tUOZ4kza4RbAshq8CkLQ-X2yXJfVDA4DPxcmmPKV6cigWDWOU-UIvhb--BIdICeXDfuUTlcnUEqrbKilbgEvh53tCVS-gTOgPV1PtzjT4Mh2QFOBdPXIiYV60msbQ-TD78mTBVuICRcd16oHmrTWDLD_SEmDfzdHnO_ERDv6QY2R3cIdQ/w200-h200/G.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>I write for adults, in that my characters are adults and I don't generally write "coming of age" or similarly YA-focused themes. But I don't write "adult" as in smut, gore, and foul language. Neither do I require exceptional levels of erudition of my audience 😉 because plain language can work just as well to tell a story.</p><p>No, there's nothing "inappropriate" in my writing – but it's still not for children. Children are perfectly welcome to read it, and some have, but I write for adults. For people with old scars, buried regrets, and long-held beliefs. There are many highly intelligent children in the world who will be able to understand the stories, and even the themes; but they will probably struggle to empathise with the characters just because they haven't been alive for long enough.</p><p>So, if I'm writing for adults, why don't my stories have explicit content? Well, to be blunt, it's <i>because</i> I'm writing for adults. Actual adults, not overage kids. </p><p>I think that most of us go through a phase where we revel in being old enough for "grown up" things, and seek out all the previously forbidden delights.<span> At the same time, we develop a horror of anything that might been seen as <a href="https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SillyRabbitIdealismIsForKids" target="_blank">"for kids"</a>. Cue sex, drugs, blood, and profanity, served up with a hefty helping of cynicism. </span> <br /></p><p>But eventually we grow to develop our own tastes, independent of what we're "supposed" to like or dislike. To quote C.S. Lewis, “To be concerned about being grown up, to admire
the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being
childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence ...
When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of
childishness and the desire to be very grown up.” </p><h4 style="text-align: center;">Lesson Seven</h4><blockquote><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">What we read, watch, listen to – or choose to avoid, as the case may be – is a personal choice. I don't want to be judged on my personal choices, and have no business judging anyone else's. Stories don't have to be "gritty" to be mature, but the reverse is also true: grim and dark stories are not automatically <i>im</i>mature. </span><br /></h4></blockquote><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2Anglesey, United Kingdom53.265325 -4.429140299999999424.955091163821152 -39.5853903 81.575558836178843 30.7271097tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-28770233126126291912023-04-07T21:48:00.003+01:002023-04-11T19:29:45.280+01:00First Draft Flargh<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNPLrt1PH8ZSSGQQAxNEzbNLJs9ZirtZ10strtrymdxr1yIDF87UJx9bxeL7KlGhD0oAZaBpSYI-lGum-bMmVVB_F42vnwAkymXnW-LPTQhOXTHnImDVoWrs5twY7WEtJDP7t1h3w40zdCPd0hQxUs-erpC9wAuS1LcBbZePVoRJ1WmOSPvUk8MYp/s400/F.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 letter F" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNPLrt1PH8ZSSGQQAxNEzbNLJs9ZirtZ10strtrymdxr1yIDF87UJx9bxeL7KlGhD0oAZaBpSYI-lGum-bMmVVB_F42vnwAkymXnW-LPTQhOXTHnImDVoWrs5twY7WEtJDP7t1h3w40zdCPd0hQxUs-erpC9wAuS1LcBbZePVoRJ1WmOSPvUk8MYp/w170-h170/F.jpg" width="170" /></a></div>So, the first draft continues <i>s<span style="color: white;">-</span>l<span style="color: white;">-</span>o<span style="color: white;">-</span>w<span style="color: white;">-</span>l<span style="color: white;">-</span>y</i>. I'm being lazy today (also, running late) so I'm just going to share an extract with you guys. This may become interesting for me in the future, because I don't keep old versions when I'm editing. Let's see how things change from this "flargh" of a first draft...<p></p><h3 style="text-align: center;">Chapter Fifteen</h3><p>After minutes, which felt like hours, of calling and searching, they found Madrigal in the stream where she’d been holding her breath under the water, playing at being a fish. Or maybe actually being a fish – Nesh didn’t really understand Sidrax shape-shifting.</p><p>Volnar got hold of a fish to show Maddie something or other, and then the children were both surprised when the fish died. Volnar wasted no time getting it cleaned and cooked, though Nesh felt that there was something a bit odd about using the scales and guts as fuel for the cooking fire.</p><p>The Earther showed a surprising amount of tact by taking the young Sidrax away to get her own dinner elsewhere. Nesh realised, a little too late, that Madrigal might not like to see one of her new friends being cooked and eaten. The thought irritated her, though whether because of her own lack of consideration or because of the Earther’s unexpected kindness, she couldn’t say.</p><p>Just when she thought she had him clearly defined as a bitter old man, he went and did something completely out of character, just to spite her. Life blight the wretched creature! Nesh finished her share of the fish, and then got ready for bed. She thought she’d rather be asleep when Maddie and the Earther – what was his name, anyway? – got back.</p><p>It was hard to get to sleep with so many thoughts racing around her brain, but Nesh did her best. She was very nearly almost asleep by the time she heard Maddie trotting through the stream, and barely noticed when the ground beneath her body softened and reshaped itself around her.</p><p>______________________</p><p>A bit heavy on the telling, but that's what early drafts are for. The style and polish come later. And, that's the lesson, I suppose. Let's make it official:</p><h4 style="text-align: center;">Lesson Six: </h4><p></p><blockquote><p>Rough drafts are allowed to be rough! <br /></p></blockquote><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-20239444501149956932023-04-06T15:30:00.002+01:002023-04-07T13:19:38.806+01:00Elephants and Expectations<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2xKxqfKGNF72lYsTwM57S6KWb7oz46feiQuzDL2L9d_6kj7oJeMCC8nGUjmZ2JEPnS-CT4S2iU7BGItsKE0SS051eE-vlE6vo-mJj9GA_AnPx6zGpunhuFFnUMuPxwDM_tntCvUni9B51vN0Yty7BhxNS9fk0fHYcZ_-KW0m55_mXbLOSZvbKnqv/s400/E.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2023 letter E" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2xKxqfKGNF72lYsTwM57S6KWb7oz46feiQuzDL2L9d_6kj7oJeMCC8nGUjmZ2JEPnS-CT4S2iU7BGItsKE0SS051eE-vlE6vo-mJj9GA_AnPx6zGpunhuFFnUMuPxwDM_tntCvUni9B51vN0Yty7BhxNS9fk0fHYcZ_-KW0m55_mXbLOSZvbKnqv/w200-h200/E.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>The person you meet through the pages of this biog, my social media, or even the author as unconsciously revealed in my stories is not the real me. Not because I'm lying to you. but because it's impossible to fit a real person into a persona.</p><p>Again, when I say "persona", I don't mean a fake personality. What you see here is the truth and nothing but the truth – but it's not the <i>whole</i> truth. That would be impossible.</p><p>We are all in the same position as those blind sages who tried to describe an elephant, arguing back and forth about whether an elephant was most like a wall, a tree, a rope, a fan, a snake, or a spear. We want to have neat, familiar descriptions for people: Agatha Christie = murder mysteries, Jane Austen = witty romances, Terry Pratchett = absurdist fantasy, Malorie Blackman = dystopian YA, etc.</p><p>It's not that these descriptors are wrong exactly, but they are certainly incomplete. </p><p> Labels are useful, though. They help us to find what we're looking for, and to describe things to each other. If you're after a fast-paced action thriller, then Jane Austen probably isn't the best fit. But she's perfect if you want a subtle piece of social satire, or a contemporary view of that particular bit of history.</p><p>So, we can't completely do without labels, but labels are not enough. This is part of the trouble I'm having with creating my "author brand". Every time I try to fit my writing under a helpful label, I find myself thinking about all the ways that label doesn't quite fit. Even this portfolio-blog (blog-folio?) is hard to categorise, and this is a curated collection. </p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CohvsFJrxfL/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="550" data-original-width="550" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3wEBB0ZVSxEmfNdwQgpANDwpB4kFhK7RQh1zoUwGwc3LsYgdM3Sn8RnJ4KSYAAoNRsy5AI1_vZVxAguadx1lSRGzYMwC5liuC2RGW5i85w-LCMTimQWxE04W6ZZFADhCJ8W8D_kVhiKzqRZihLX37JkGTSFIo394t95A9k_6Yx6kBx3v7d1IGSGtFw/w286-h320/IdealReaderWhoever.png" width="286" /></a></div> (Suggestions welcome, by the way.)<p>I know my stories won't appeal to everyone – that would be impossible, even if I wanted to do it – but I don't know how best to label myself so that the people who might like my work will be able to find me.</p><p>What am I: A poet? A novelist? A blogger? Songwriter? Game designer?<br /></p><p>What's my genre: Fantasy? Historical? Superhero? Dystopian? Fairy tales? </p><p>What kind of narrative voice do I use? Comedic? Serious? Literary? Accessible? </p><p>Well... yes. All of the above. Some of those things haven't been uploaded here yet, but I've done them. And that's not even counting the projects I have in my queue, where many new and strange things are waiting to be explored. </p><h4 style="text-align: center;">Lesson Five:</h4><p>Labels are OK, but I shouldn't get too worked up about them. They're useful indicators, not hard limits. <br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-43010894133784153152023-04-05T12:30:00.109+01:002023-04-05T16:39:57.439+01:00Days and Dates<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TL6Nvn0xK51GfiBuP6yBHhuMew_RA8EaFbflJuJIekO-EfvFYhZoO3iZwDUZQZzomcEuLALcBcAwFcGi9o6deSUpkpXPmp-vMiQ25060Vcug5JeUltNLdgJx_etS1LgE40SNDvnkVkKuuF0jG5Epx9AUUyZZFDSFBcWqciflQh99b4f2Lgle9zIN/s400/D.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2023 letter D" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TL6Nvn0xK51GfiBuP6yBHhuMew_RA8EaFbflJuJIekO-EfvFYhZoO3iZwDUZQZzomcEuLALcBcAwFcGi9o6deSUpkpXPmp-vMiQ25060Vcug5JeUltNLdgJx_etS1LgE40SNDvnkVkKuuF0jG5Epx9AUUyZZFDSFBcWqciflQh99b4f2Lgle9zIN/w200-h200/D.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>I've just spent half the morning on Universe Sandbox. Investigate at your own risk!</p><p>And all because I'm trying to establish some kind of calendar for my fantasy planet, and I wanted to know if my ideas about two moons would work. I started by thinking that I could just copy Mars' set-up, but those moons zip round mere <i>hours</i>. Blink and you'd miss it, not to mention that they're both really tiny.<br /></p><p>I'm hoping more for an inner orbit that defines a "week" (of however many days) and slower, outer orbit of between 3-5 "weeks". I was even OK with a "weird" ratio, like 3:8 or something, so that a double full moon would be a notable affair. But it turns out that astrophysics is complicated. Who'da thunk?<br /></p><p> This all started because I've been thinking about special dates recently, and that I really need to come up with a calendar for my fantasy world. Book one got away with hand-waving it because Kerrig doesn't care about dates much, but other books in the <i>Fragments</i> series cover different time periods, and reflect a variety of cultures. I need to start syncing things up, and figuring out how these different cultures mark out their weeks, months, and seasons.</p><p>Tasty, tasty research! World building! Orbital periods, annual ceremonies, climate patterns and socio-geographic culture building! The sweet, sweet crossover between physics, humanities, and art. All fun stuff, but <i>not actually writing</i>. </p><p>Oops. </p><p>I think I need to re-read last Saturday's post, and then put all this world-building into the "not now" pile until the draft if done. And by then, I'll know where to find the most narratively satisfying place for the special days. Because physics is cool, but what really matters is telling a good story.</p><p>Lesson: Basically, this: </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/u1J8nul74BM" width="320" youtube-src-id="u1J8nul74BM"></iframe></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1J8nul74BM">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1J8nul74BM</a><br /></p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-87618001993406839902023-04-04T21:58:00.005+01:002023-06-16T10:24:25.292+01:00Clutter, Chaos, and Cardboard Boxes<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvf_HaJx1KMfxHx3ESO0F4ixm_LLyFMA95rOkIup1rkjvg0z9j-DcrMgWrvv40Yro2DPyURPpx4Wsf_ec8YNRLiC_rbjcpfHVqh3h89dK1rabZjNFk_kDdd8fUFGMqDxm9QockqjJQdhNBib01bdUY8LTpLnFsYemMEumiSL5tppX15SDOobVbAAQN/s400/C.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="#AtoZChallenge 2023 letter C" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvf_HaJx1KMfxHx3ESO0F4ixm_LLyFMA95rOkIup1rkjvg0z9j-DcrMgWrvv40Yro2DPyURPpx4Wsf_ec8YNRLiC_rbjcpfHVqh3h89dK1rabZjNFk_kDdd8fUFGMqDxm9QockqjJQdhNBib01bdUY8LTpLnFsYemMEumiSL5tppX15SDOobVbAAQN/w200-h200/C.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p>Last September I moved from a small place to an even smaller place. It was for a good reason, and I'm happy about it, but there's nothing like moving house to make a person realise how much <i>stuff</i> has accumulated over the years. </p><p>Even after getting rid of more than half of it, it's still a struggle to find room for the rest in the new place. But I haven't given up anything that I miss, so what was all that extra? It was “filler”. Excess baggage. Unnecessary detail. </p><div><br /></div><div>Yes, I'm editing my possessions like a draft of a novel. It's always interesting to me when writing advice has a wider application.The focus on editing in this entry, though, means that I've come to the end of what I wanted to say, so I'll stop. <br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-59203752579527206662023-04-03T11:22:00.002+01:002023-05-01T13:40:13.307+01:00Beginnings <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBwBkPmQDVCCRDTn89WTwPtK-Kkv5z6vB49O0FvhsmVT9QMCzR9-L_hY4cXWeTGhTAfrFOQL783Cp5GTo0LFEfkCk-8Sbu9eho7ItfmggQusJX5fVOwtS-ziuTc5kAX4IhNiiSw1y0Fb1T2UU8y1ZpNqzx0VJ7f-q3jLZrBRfHnBg_F4WUqrGsYEhs/s400/B.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBwBkPmQDVCCRDTn89WTwPtK-Kkv5z6vB49O0FvhsmVT9QMCzR9-L_hY4cXWeTGhTAfrFOQL783Cp5GTo0LFEfkCk-8Sbu9eho7ItfmggQusJX5fVOwtS-ziuTc5kAX4IhNiiSw1y0Fb1T2UU8y1ZpNqzx0VJ7f-q3jLZrBRfHnBg_F4WUqrGsYEhs/w200-h200/B.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Beginnings are a popular topic among writers. Take, for example: <br /><p></p><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote>“Begin at the beginning, ... and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” – Lewis Carroll, <i>Alice in Wonderland </i></blockquote><i></i><p></p><p></p></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><p>"Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start." – Rogers & Hammerstein, <i>Do-Re-Mi<br /></i></p></blockquote><p></p></blockquote><blockquote><blockquote><p>“The beginning is the most important part of the work.” ― Plato, <i>The Republic</i></p></blockquote><p>And, my personal favourite: </p></blockquote><p></p><blockquote><p>“Everything starts somewhere, though many physicists disagree.” ― Terry Pratchett, <i>Hogfather</i> </p></blockquote><p>My stories usually begin as ideas, stewing quietly in my head for a while. But when I'm ready to put pen to paper, I begin with an outline.</p><p>Wait! Don't comment yet! This is <i>not</i> going to be 500 words of "use my new and brilliant outlining method". Instead, I want to show you how I took inspiration from several methods, and how you can do something similar customise your own outline.</p><p></p><blockquote>Avoiding outlines on principle? I've got an upcoming post for you on the eighteenth: <a href="https://kell-willsen.blogspot.com/2023/04/outlines-love-em-or-hate-em.html">Outlines: Love 'Em or Hate 'Em?</a> </blockquote><p>My brain likes patterns, so outlining has always appealed to me. But even after many years of experimenting, I couldn’t seem to find “the one”, the perfect outlining method for me. Many writers at this point tend to do one of two things: Give up on outlining, or invent a brand new method of their own. I don’t have the right kind of brain for the first, or enough confidence for the second, so I had a problem – until I realised that I didn’t have to pick just one method, nor was I actually obliged to use every part of any given outline. No-one was looking over my shoulder to make sure I was using their method “correctly”.</p><p>After a lifetime of being constantly “put right”, this realisation was something of a bombshell. But after the shock wore off, and I’d done a bit more testing, I finally had my own, home-brewed outlining method. As promised, I’m not going to share it here, or anywhere else, because that’s not the point of this post. The point of this post is to encourage you to develop your own method. </p><p>I like top-down outlining, so the <a href="https://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/articles/snowflake-method/" target="_blank">Snowflake Method</a> and the <a href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwi00fTIj9T-AhXCgVwKHa2rCYcQwqsBegQIDRAF&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dfe3eodLF_Uo&usg=AOvVaw0NbBgwqech0ZyMFzq4oYh1" target="_blank">3/9/27 method</a> appealed to me most. The Hero’s Journey and the Heroine’s Journey were interesting, but too specific for my style. I found the Plot Embryo to be the best fit in the end, especially with the tragic and heroic patterns having so many parallels.But you might find that you prefer a more linear, discovery-type of outlining, such as <a href="http://thescientistvideographer.com/wordpress/the-pixar-storytelling-formula/" target="_blank">the Pixar method</a>. Or a method more <a href="http://kirtunamial.blogspot.com/2012/03/exercises-from-book-days-of.html" target="_blank">focused on the world-building</a>, asking what would happen given a particular set of circumstances. </p><p>The <a href="https://thejohnfox.com/2021/01/9-story-structures-to-plot-your-next-novel/" target="_blank">array of outlining methods</a> out there offers near-endless combinations to suit every taste. Spend a bit of time exploring, and refine your plan to fit your own story and style. But remember:</p><blockquote><p><strong>Lesson Two: A plan is only a plan</strong></p><p>Plans that change are still worth having. It’s always a good idea to have a direction in mind when you set out, even if you change it later.</p></blockquote><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2Anglesey, United Kingdom53.265325 -4.429140299999999424.955091163821152 -39.5853903 81.575558836178843 30.7271097tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-78006150641140656722023-04-01T20:31:00.036+01:002023-04-02T08:22:54.435+01:00April Already? I'm Not Ready!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AtoZChallenge 2023 badge A" border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNRL47k9XcKex_9Sz34X1lWREP--fZAJr_K03ZeTjOeQ0djd49urCVOkkJmsxwwdZE2GgYp_Ejlyzg6iFF_OjAAmFW-xquNRr2BIaJyYq1X4TaXmysWcVHXm-J5mrcsrK18I40LZtbaJQYapAadxun9QMoGkD2tElPH2rVw_FD11NHty7KbA9zT3m/w140-h140/A.jpg" width="140" /></a></div><br />Hello, April. What are you doing here so early? <p></p><p>*checks calendar*</p><p>O...kay. It's April. For real. Lots to do. Let's start with <a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/" target="_blank">the A-Z Challenge</a>...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholh45Ho-Onf51FRUra0zdVaLH1pV5Ov7pb8-g0mrmPf_9kpdyzsANrF2l4iTC1Lcl8ogT86ObfPNercB09bI_lMvP33kK_Rj_w4t5D2-bX7oL5txo-tnqdocUHyAlL2pZnWfHYG6B-ko2wJ3csEX32e_9BZD5-q4JfEdgtmtiUMiCJivQcgP043Ycsg/s904/ThemeRevealMissedDeadline.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Screenshot of the A-Z Challenge website: Theme reveal closed." border="0" data-original-height="492" data-original-width="904" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholh45Ho-Onf51FRUra0zdVaLH1pV5Ov7pb8-g0mrmPf_9kpdyzsANrF2l4iTC1Lcl8ogT86ObfPNercB09bI_lMvP33kK_Rj_w4t5D2-bX7oL5txo-tnqdocUHyAlL2pZnWfHYG6B-ko2wJ3csEX32e_9BZD5-q4JfEdgtmtiUMiCJivQcgP043Ycsg/w557-h273/ThemeRevealMissedDeadline.jpg" title="I knew I'd forgotten something... 🤦🏻♀️" width="557" /></a></div>Oh well, it's not as if I really have a theme yet anyway. Next step is to sign up to the <a href="https://forms.gle/1XKdAiEiYjdgHksZ7" target="_blank">Master List</a>...<p>Hmm, turns out I do need a theme after all. Lets choose "Author/Writing (mixed bag)". And links, I need links. FB & IG will have to do for now. </p><p>And another place to state the theme. A restatement of the theme, if you will. How about: "Tracking progress on too many writing goals, and the lessons learned along the way". </p><p>This month I'm aiming to:</p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Finish the first draft of<i> The Avlem Burden</i> for <a href="https://nanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">Camp NaNoWriMo</a> <br /></li><li>Create a comprehensive outline for the sequel: Marshlander's Betrayal</li><li>Complete the A-Z Challenge </li></ul>And, over at my other blog: <a href="https://etoageto.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Eto ag Eto</a>:<br /><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Keep up with the <a href="https://aroundofwordsin80days.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">ROW80 Challenge</a></li><li>Build fluency with <a href="https://www.charachorder.com/" target="_blank">the CC1 </a></li></ul>Meanwhile, in my offline life, I need to:</div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Finish unpacking from the move (<i>which was seven months ago!</i>)</li><li>Keep going with my language studies </li></ul><div> Too much? Almost certainly. Bring on the life-lessons; I am clearly in need of a few.</div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> * * *</div><div style="text-align: center;"><h4>Lesson One: Advance the Story</h4></div><div>The scene I'm working on at the moment is a conversation between two very angry characters. There are many, many things they could say to each other, so I need to pare the scene down to the essentials. That or write ten pages of bickering. Every line needs to serve the narrative by:</div><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Moving the plot forward, </li><li>Revealing important details, </li><li>Developing one or more characters' arcs, <i>or</i> </li><li>All of the above. </li></ol><div>This being a first draft, I'm not going to worry too much about conservation of dialogue. But having the rule in mind while drafting will make the edit go more smoothly than it otherwise would. </div><div> </div><div>Which brings us neatly to the first lesson:</div><blockquote><div><b>Everything I do this month needs to be either:<br /><br /></b> 1. <b>Taking care of my health, <br /></b> 2. <b>Advancing one or more of my goals, <br /></b> 3. <b>Fulfilling pre-existing responsibilities, </b><i>or</i><b><br /></b> 4. <b>All of the above.</b><br /></div></blockquote><div>This being a trial run, I'm not going to worry too much efficiency. But having this aim in mind will help with my long-term goal: <b><u><span style="background-color: #fcff01;">Sustainable Adulting</span></u></b>. </div><div> </div><div>Don't laugh! I can dream, can't I? <br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3Anglesey, United Kingdom53.265325 -4.429140299999999424.955091163821152 -39.5853903 81.575558836178843 30.7271097tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-89091648732848030392023-03-28T08:36:00.001+01:002023-04-02T08:20:59.554+01:00SpringCome the Spring, come the rain, come the greening leaves,<br />Come the days getting longer, the evenings bright,<br />Hear the birds making homes in the shady eaves,<br />Hear the bees softly drone in the morning light,
<p>See the coats coming off, showing shorter sleeves<br />See the snow clinging on to the mountain heights<br />As the year comes of age, so the heart of Spring,<br />As the youth of the year, is a fleeting thing.</p><p style="text-align: right;"> – <i>Kell Willsen</i> <br /></p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-14847726289481496142023-03-14T08:21:00.006+00:002023-04-02T11:58:59.877+01:00Magnificent Difference<p>Magnificent panorama<br />Slow-motion natural drama<br />A million years in the telling<br />And barely begun, compelling<br />Each step of man's advance, mal- or beneficent<br />To factor in Earth's structural magnificence.</p>
<p>That difference in scale at once<br />Brings home our insignificance,<br />And shows the power we command<br />To treat the planet out-of-hand<br />Blind, blunt, relentless progress shows us, in a sense,<br />That nature and her children aren't that different.</p><p style="text-align: right;">– <i>Kell Willsen</i></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2700990636071783173.post-32201127156677151342023-02-28T08:34:00.006+00:002023-06-16T10:24:01.368+01:00Old Heroes Never Die<p><span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>by Kell Willsen</i> </span></p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="1f3f1104-1823-4d1b-ac07-7d1ff87accc3" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-1f3f1104-1823-4d1b-ac07-7d1ff87accc3" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Miss Meera Jones, room 37, was back from breakfast; having been washed, dressed, and medicated as per usual. The new carer really was very good, she thought. Efficient, gentle, and with a wonderful memory for what made the residents happy. Such a nice young man, and marvellously self-effacing. He had one of those faces that won't stick in the memory no matter what; broadcasting <b>"<u>I am not important or memorable</u>"</b> to every subconscious in the area. </p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="1f3f1104-1823-4d1b-ac07-7d1ff87accc3" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-1f3f1104-1823-4d1b-ac07-7d1ff87accc3" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Miss Meera sighed inwardly at the decline in standards since her time at the Academy. But Doctor Clarivos was not a man famed for subtlety.</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="88cbf285-712f-4d48-9427-c8ad29b283ec" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-88cbf285-712f-4d48-9427-c8ad29b283ec" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">She spent the morning in her room, gazing out of her window at the busy streets below. Her family had tried to get her into a care home out in the countryside, but she'd refused to leave her city. This community care home was overcrowded, poorly funded, and lacking in all the amenities of art and nature that other homes provided. The staff were stretched thin, and rarely had time for more than a word or two of conversation during their duties. So if Miss Meera wanted to spend all day quietly in her room, no-one here had the time or energy to object.</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="68920d3f-c752-409f-a7a4-afe3c6f08b01" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-68920d3f-c752-409f-a7a4-afe3c6f08b01" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">The world outside her window was as hustling and bustling as it had been in her day. Things looked and sounded different in many ways, but the essentials hadn't changed. People were still people, and Miss Meera still loved them dearly. She watched a mother struggling along with a baby in a buggy and two older children tagging along behind, all loaded down with shopping. A casual thought nudged the oldest child's foot from going off the edge of the pavement, averting what could have been a nasty fall. Another effort steadied the cyclist who'd been distracted by the family, and was losing his balance. And so nothing happened, and the day was uneventful for all concerned.</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="898d18fc-b430-4ed4-870a-d173e758a294" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-898d18fc-b430-4ed4-870a-d173e758a294" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">The new carer was still on duty at lunchtime, and Miss Meera scanned him quietly while he helped her on with her slippers and prepared to escort her down to the dining hall. She found what she was looking for on a pendant he wore, and gave it a mental tug so that it spilled out of his shirt as he bent over her.</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="1b80e697-5505-4b3c-ba8a-463949099727" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-1b80e697-5505-4b3c-ba8a-463949099727" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">He apologised and moved to tuck it away, but Miss Meera stopped him and admired the pendant. It was engraved with her own likeness - or at least, with Mesmera's likeness, from back in the day.</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="51206a1d-f0b2-4b7d-a6f0-0f178cfba225" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-51206a1d-f0b2-4b7d-a6f0-0f178cfba225" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">"Who's your lady friend?" she asked, as she turned the psychic presence on it down from <span style="font-size: large;">"<b>PAY NO ATTENTION!</b>"</span> to <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>"who, me?"</i></span></p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="63513f14-1826-4d2e-9756-d9d256a641fd" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-63513f14-1826-4d2e-9756-d9d256a641fd" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">The young man's face broke into a nostalgic smile. "That's the fantastic Mesmera," he said. "She saved my grandma's life more than fifty years ago. If not for Mesmera, my mama wouldn't even have been born."</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="df621481-033c-4f2e-83c8-b654ba3bc9a6" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-df621481-033c-4f2e-83c8-b654ba3bc9a6" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">He brushed his thumb over the face on the pendant before tucking it back inside his shirt. "I found this in a jumble sale a few years back, and bought it to remind myself how much one person can affect the lives of others."</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="255f1941-b13a-455c-9ecb-89d52a3f5b04" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-255f1941-b13a-455c-9ecb-89d52a3f5b04" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Then Miss Meera Jones was seated at her table, and the nice young man disappeared back into the crowd. She idly wondered what his hero name was, but she didn't really keep up with that scene these days. Young things running about in costumes and saving the world.</p><p aria-label="Paragraph block" aria-multiline="true" class="block-editor-rich-text__editable block-editor-block-list__block wp-block wp-block-paragraph rich-text" contenteditable="true" data-block="616b82cd-dde4-4737-806f-412b80e68184" data-empty="false" data-title="Paragraph" data-type="core/paragraph" id="block-616b82cd-dde4-4737-806f-412b80e68184" role="document" style="min-width: 1px; white-space: pre-wrap;" tabindex="0">Miss Meera smiled, and reached out a mental hand to stop old Mrs. Brampton from spilling her soup.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0